The Riddled Enigma
by swiftykenobi
Summary: The creation of the first horcrux as Tom Riddle completes his sixth year at Hogwarts. Character death.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own it, the brilliant JKR does.

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In a world where every corner is bursting with unworldly enchantments and magical entities, it seems as though an enigma should not even be a possible existence.

But sometimes those who are in the core of an environment are the ones who are blinded. Surrounded by magic, in a world within a world where a puzzle should not seem to be alive, is where this story begins.

It begins with the enigma of a boy with a cloudy future.

It begins with the riddle of love, and love's subsequent sacrifices.

Darkness can envelop even the brightest light, and because it could, it did. It eclipsed the small flicker of love and passion that had ignited in the very heart of evil.

Yet evil would come to prevail, and that small flame would flicker out in the frigid wind of apathy.

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Seeing the castle for the first time opened her eyes wider than they had ever been opened before. The letter had been a shock that had flooded her with emotion. Though she had told herself that it was all a dream, she had still taken the bus ride to the train station. Though she had told herself that it was entirely ludicrous to try and walk through a completely solid barrier, some force had urged her to.

The hissing of the scarlet train as she hoisted her trunk into a carriage frightened her. She did not know where she was going, or what she was doing, but there was some reassuring feeling in the atmosphere that seemed to speak to her and tell her that it had been the right decision.

Even if it all turned out to be some horrible misunderstanding, she would in any case be thankful for a warm meal before she was banished back to her old life of hunger and cold, alone on the streets.

Her black robes were second-hand, paid for by the school's extra fund, and her books were shabby, but as she read through them, her world opened up.

She barely knew anything of her parents or family. Her life had been spent in and out of shelters and foster homes. She had lived a miserable life, but when the mysterious letter had been flown into her hands by a large owl, a tiny glimmer of hope had erupted in her chest, that perhaps, the mysterious life that she was headed to might be better than her old one.

It felt like a blur, seeing the castle for the first time while gliding along the lake, walking timidly up the stairs to the castle where they were greeted by a friendly-looking professor with auburn hair, sitting on the three-legged stool while anxiety racked her bones, until the hat called out 'Ravenclaw!' and the table had applauded as she sat down.

_It's all a dream_ she told herself as she sunk into the soft bed layered with heavy and warm blankets. She pulled the deep blue hangings down and drifted off into what felt like a perfect sleep, into an unknown tomorrow, but a hopeful one.

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Tom Riddle awoke and yawned. Yanking apart the green hangings, he made his way still sleepily to the bathroom. He peered at his fifteen-year-old reflection in the mirror, trying to wake up. Five years had passed since his first evening at Hogwarts.

Five years, and he had become more brilliant, more powerful, even more handsome than any other student who had ever walked the halls of the school. His shiny prefect badge glowed on his chest as he made his way to Slughorn's class. Potions was his best subject, except of course for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

But he never told anyone that it was not _defending _himself against the Dark Arts that he found so fascinating, it was the Arts themselves. He took a seat and gazed across the classroom, observing his peers with his usual eerie stare. He knew most of them, the load of dunderheads. But his eyes lingered on a girl that he did not know. He knew that she was quite brilliant, and her potions almost always turned out as well as his.

_It is a shame,_ he thought to himself, that the girl was not a Slytherin. She may have proved to be an interesting addition to his group of followers. She may have been useful.

His attention then shifted from the girl to Slughorn, and he soon forgot all previous thoughts as he took down notes and manipulated them to try and make a potion even more powerful. He was jerked out of his reverie when he heard Slughorn call his name.

His head snapped up, "Yes sir?"

Slughorn began to speak and ask a question about antidotes to poisons, Tom did not pay much attention. When Slughorn finished, Tom spoke.

"I would simply shove a bezoar down their throats, sir."

Slughorn looked at Tom for a moment in amazement before he began to chuckle and mutter something about Tom's brilliance. Tom rolled his eyes. It was then that the music made him look up. No, it was not music, but a small laugh coming from the girl that he had observed earlier. He looked at her in amazement...not many people ever laughed at what he said.

He had not even meant for the bezoar comment to be funny, but after he thought about it, he supposed that it was somewhat humorous. He spent the rest of the class not taking notes, but looking at the girl. He supposed that by a teenage boy's standards she was pretty, but he had never pondered attraction. Tom's only attractions had ever only been to darkness and power.

When the bell signaled the end of class, he rose. In the rush to get out of the classroom, he found himself next to the girl. He let her pass through first, and as she did, she gave him the smallest of smiles. It was a very kind smile, and one that effected Tom as nothing else ever quite had.

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The next few weeks passed uneventfully, and as always, Tom threw himself into his work. But when silence struck, and in the heart of the night, his mind would sometimes return to the smile in the potions dungeon. It was a puzzle to Tom, smiles. He felt that they were frivolous...unnecessary.

The girl was in his transfiguration class as well, and he could not seem to stop his eyes from traveling across the room to where she sat with her other Ravenclaw friends. Little flecks of sunlight danced atop her bronze hair, and Tom could not help but notice the fine lines of her oval face and the blue eyes that twinkled inside of them. He tried to tear his own eyes away, but something held them.

He kept watching from a distance until he felt a different set of eyes watching him. He glanced up to see Dumbledore looking at him. Tom quickly brought his eyes back to his own paper and seethed. He despised the old professor. Dumbledore seemed to watch Tom's every move. He could feel it at meals and in the halls, and he knew that the man did not trust Tom.

Tom knew that he had a true talent for putting on a facade. It was not difficult to make people like and trust him, but Dumbledore was the one who would not crack. He glanced up again in time to see Dumbledore's eyes travel from Tom to the girl. A look of concern etched itself into the lines on his face.

The class ended, and Tom hung back briefly, until she passed. He held the door open for her, and as she passed through with her friends, she once again smiled at him, and it was as though something changed inside of Tom. He took a deep breath and left the classroom, but with a glance back, he saw that old Dumbledore was still following Tom's back with his eyes as the teenager left the classroom.

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A/N: This is my first Harry Potter fic, and it's just a little idea that I got one day. I will most likely continue it. It won't be very long, perhaps only four or five total chapters I think. Anyway, thanks for reading, feedback is always most appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

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More and more it seemed as though Tom's thoughts were filled with her. He wrote briefly about her in his diary, but he chose not to go into great detail. There was something deep inside of Tom that told him that this diary would become his future, and he was measured in what he wrote inside of the pages.

Tom made it his business to know everything about her, and she surprised him. Her grades were exceptional, but that was not a surprise to Tom, he knew that she was intelligent from class. It was her past that came as a shock to Tom. It was so similar to his own, full of loveless homes and a life of loneliness and fear.

He was intrigued by her. The way that she laughed at meals with her friends, the line of her arm when she raised it in class, and the kindness with which she treated all. Tom had never been a believer in compassion, and he was never fully convinced of it, but she made a case for it.

She was always kind to others. Even to Slytherins who scorned her and branded her with their fiery-tongued title of 'mudblood,' she remained empathetic. Tom was intrigued by her, and he was intrigued by their similarities. He himself never told his "friends" of his parentage, and he knew that they would never ask because of the power that he held over them.

She was a prefect as well. Tom was surprised at himself for never paying much attention before hand. He had always prided himself on knowing everything about those that he dealt with.

Tom felt restless that evening. He thought that perhaps he would go down to the library and find a book to read. He would sometimes go to the library and simply linger by the restricted section, soaking up the seductive power of the forbidden information on the pages. Tom ached for his sixth year, when he could finally enter into that new realm of power.

He walked like a ghost past the aisles, trying to feel something pull him to a book to read. Then he saw her. He could not believe that she was there. She sat at a small table doing homework under a small lamp. Tom smiled. He decided that he should simply go and say something, and so, he approached her table silently and reached out to touch her arm.

She jumped when she felt the touch. It had felt as though an electric shock had pulsed up her arm. She turned, and when she saw that it was Tom, she gave him a small smile.

"You scared me."

"So sorry," he said. "May I sit?"

She looked unsure for a moment, but then gestured for him to sit. He opened his book, and she returned to her studying, the light from the lamp flickering across her face. He pretended to read, but watched her instead.

Finally he spoke again, after some time of silence. "You laughed at what I said in potions."

She glanced up, giving him an odd look, "What?"

"In potions. The thing about the bezoar. You laughed."

She gave him an incredulous smile, as though she had never quite met anyone like him. "Well it was funny."

"It wasn't supposed to be."

She gave him an odd look, "Ok," she blinked, "sorry." She shook her head and returned to her work. He pretended to be engrossed in his reading, but he saw her glance up at him a few times.

"Don't be," he said after a moment.

She looked up, "Don't be what?"

"Don't be sorry. It's a waste of time."

"Yeah...I guess." She tried to concentrate on her book, but was finding it awfully difficult.

"I should go," Tom said. "I have to get my beauty rest."

She looked at him, giving him an odd look. He smirked a bit, "_That_ was supposed to be funny."

He turned and walked out of the library, leaving her staring out after him, trying to figure out the riddle.

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Tom returned the next night, and she was there, at the same table, studying under the lamplight. Tom simply sat this time, not asking. She barely glanced up at him when he sat, and he tried to read her face, but she was keeping any emotion well-guarded.

Tom opened his book and began to read. Neither said a word to the other, and over an hour passed before Tom finally yawned. He stood, "Good night," he said to her.

She looked up at him for the first time that evening. "Night."

This same routine continued on for three weeks. Tom was never quite sure why he continued to come, or rather, why she did. One night though, he decided that he was tired of sitting in silence.

"Would you like to take a walk?" He asked her.

She glanced down at her half-finished homework, and then, looking at him intently, she nodded. She gathered her books, which he offered to carry. She objected at first, but eventually capitulated and allowed him to tug her books out of her arms.

It was beginning to get late, and the moon had risen high, shedding an eerie light on Hogwarts' grounds. Tom led her outside the giant doors leading into the castle, despite her objections about wandering school grounds when they were not supposed to.

They walked along the grounds, a small wind rustling the grass under their feet. Eventually, they found themselves by the lake, and they sat. She stared out at the disfigured moon that reflected in the rippling water. Tom looked out as well, and as though seized by some force, he reached out and laced his fingers through her hand.

She looked at him surprised, but she did not object. Instead, she allowed him to keep his hand there, and together they sat, looking out at the calming waters for a long while.

After many minutes had passed, she stood suddenly, "It's getting late."

"Don't go," he said.

She looked at his handsome face, and his eyes, and she did not want to go, but she broke the connection of their hands and grabbed her books. She began to walk back up the grassy slope to the school, and he watched her go, but not without shouting to her, "Meet me again!"

She turned slowly and looked at him. She did not speak, and thought for a moment. Giving him a small nod, she turned again and returned to the dark castle.

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A/N: More to come soon, feedback is always most appreciated!


	3. Chapter 3

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They met again the next night on the lake, and the night after. They never said much, they mostly sat and stared out at the water. Like the meetings in the library, this continued on for a few weeks, until one particular night.

Tom thought that the moon was shining exceptionally bright, and its luminous glow on her hair was intoxicating. He looked into her eyes, and she looked back. He knew she was trying to see deeper into him than he allowed her to, but he could not let her. He wanted no person to see into him any further than what he himself allowed them to.

Seized by that invisible force, his lips found hers, and in a show of passion, they stayed there for a few moments before she finally pulled away. Her breathing was shallow and he was surprised to find that so was his own. His heart was pounding in his chest as he looked at her.

She stared back, and putting her hand through his black hair, she pulled him into another kiss. When it was finished, they lay back and stared at the moon for awhile. As usual, he held her hand until she finally rose and with a simple, "Good night," she was gone.

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He saw her at breakfast. When she sat down across the Great Hall, she smiled at him, and he gave her his own grin in return. He then quickly dropped his eyes to his own plate. He did not want to be suspicious. Slytherins and Ravenclaws were not to be seen smiling at each other.

He glanced quickly up at the professors' table, and he saw Dumbledore's eyes on him. Anger flared up in Tom's chest at the sight of the old Transfiguration professor. Tom hoped that Dumbledore had not seen the earlier exchange, but something told Tom that he had.

Dumbledore possessed the kind of power that Tom had spent years trying to learn. Tom knew how closely the man watched him, especially after the Hagrid incident. Tom hated the feeling of powerlessness when he was around Dumbledore. Tom hated that Dumbledore was always interfering.

Tom finished his breakfast and the day wore on. He entered Transfiguration that afternoon, and observed her, laughing as usual with her friends, only a few glances directed his way. He knew that there was something inside of her that feared him. He knew that there was some part of her that would not tell her group of friends about him.

The class passed, and as the bell signaled the end of class, Dumbledore called her up to his desk. Normally Tom would have waited and held the door open for her, but it was clear that Dumbledore wanted a private conversation, and so Tom was forced to leave, but he lingered outside the classroom door that he left open just a crack. No more than a sliver. Dumbledore may have been sucessful at seeing into one's mind, but Tom knew that the man possessed no magical eyes. He would not be able to sense Tom's ligering presence outside of the door.

Dumbledore was speaking to her, "I know that this is out of place, but I wish to express my concerns about your new friend."

Fury rose in Tom like a biting snake. Dumbledore was not even the head of Ravenclaw house. The old man had no place in speaking to her.

"I'm afraid that I do not understand, Professor."

"I trust you know," Dumbledore's words were measured, calculated, "of Tom Riddle's powers."

"He's brilliant."

"You are one of the most intelligent young women that has ever passed through my classroom, and I know that you have good judgement."

"I fail to see where you are going with this, Professor."

"I do not want to see you get hurt."

"I trust Tom."

These words stirred something in Tom. It was not the first time that he had pondered it, but he had often put it out of his mind for her sake. Full and complete trust could become a valuable entity to Tom.

"A relationship with Tom Riddle could be a fatal one," said Dumbledore.

Tom wanted nothing more than to rage and scream at the man. He had no right to plant seeds of doubt in her heart and mind. He had no right to even have this conversation with her.

"I'm afraid that I still do not understand, Professor. But I do know that I care for him greatly."

"You will do as you will. I am simply urging caution."

"Thank you, Professor." Tom was glad to hear the icy tone behind her words.

Sensing that their conversation was over, Tom sprinted down the corner and then glanced around the corner as she exited the door. He saw her lean back against the wall and take a deep breath. She ran a hand through her long hair and he was surprised to see a small tear fall down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly and began to walk down the hall.

He walked quickly to catch up with her, and from behind, he grabbed her hand. She jumped in shock and surprise. She allowed him to keep her hand, and they walked in silence.

"Are you ok?" He asked, trying to sound as kind as possible.

"Fine," she said shortly. She did not look at him as they continued to walk.

He finally pulled her into a semi-dark corner and pushed her up against the wall. Tenderly, he kissed her, but she pushed him away.

"Tom -" He continued to try and kiss her. "Tom, don't."

"Shhh," he hissed into her ear, but she continued to push him away. Not wanting it to go this way, he continued in his attempts to induce passion in her, but she continued to push him away. It was as though that same force had seized him again, and he grabbed her wrists, a little too tightly, and held them down as he kissed her hard.

It was then that he felt the hard contact of a fist on the side of his face. Blood instantly gushed from his nose as he stumbled to the floor. He glanced up and saw a tall sixth year Gryffindor standing above him. The boy kicked Tom in the stomach, and Tom once again fell to the floor.

Tom tried to rise, but the other boy pulled out his wand and pointed it at Tom. "Don't you dare get up, you sick bastard," he said.

Tom glared up at him, and then shifted his gaze to her. She looked at him with tears in her eyes and without saying anything, she turned and ran down the hall. Tom returned his gaze to the Gryffindor. It was Charlus Potter. Tom did not know much about him, except that the family was a bunch of traitors to the purebloods.

After a few more moments, Potter, his wand still pointing at Tom, kicked him once more in the face, and Tom felt himself collapse, blood gushing into his eyes. He could see nothing, but he could hear Potter's footsteps as they echoed down the stone hall and out of sight. Tom Riddle resolved to never again rest until he had caused as much pain to Charlus Potter as he could, and all of Potter's family as well.

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	4. Chapter 4

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Tom stared at her the entire Potions class that afternoon, but she never once looked at him, or even glanced towards his general vicinity. Tom grit his teeth in anger. The bell rang, and she was the first to leave class, and Tom was unable to squeeze through the crowd around the door in time to get to her.

The same anger that had been inside of Tom the past weeks was rising inside of him even faster than before. After that lesson, he tried his best to simply not look at her, but they often passed each other in the halls, and they still had other lessons together.

Tom began to feel cold and withdrawn. When he saw the dark circles under her eyes, he found that he was unable to feel anything. Even when Dumbledore looked from her to Tom and back again, Tom could not feel angry.

Tom began to sleep fitfully, tossing and turning. He spent more and more time at the library, reading every word that he could find on dark magic. He pressed on into the layers of abandoned books in dusty corners of the library that contained the smallest of mentions of his new quest.

His experience with her had driven Tom to delve into a subject that was not spoken of at Hogwarts. He was sure that Slughorn or Dumbledore would have heard of it, and knew more than he could find, but Tom knew that he could never ask. It would draw too much attention to him.

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The rest of Tom's fifth year passed in a blur. After awhile, he simply did not allow himself to think about her. He threw himself into his studies, and he prepared for the summer that he knew would bring extraordinary changes to his future. He did not know if he had the strength, or even the gumption to complete it...but he would try.

On the last day of school, Tom was packing his books in his trunk, preparing for the train ride that would bring him to his obscured future. He grabbed his potions book, and as he did, the cover fluttered open and a letter fluttered to the floor.

Tom bent to pick it up, observing the envelope with _Tom_ written on it in shiny blue ink. He knew that writing, and his hands shook slightly as he tore open the envelope to reveal the letter inside. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he began to read.

Tom--

There is a part of me that is unsure why I am even writing this letter to you. After what happened, simply passing by you in the hall has brought a part of my heart to hurt.

Tom, I do not know what happened between us, but there is something inside of me that tells me that I may have loved you.

I know that you were listening the day that I spoke to Dumbledore, and now I realize that I was lying when I told him that I trusted you, because I don't, and you did not trust me. If you had, you would not have hovered right outside the door.

I know how much you dislike Dumbledore, but the more I have thought about his words, I have come to the conclusion that he is correct. You have raw power, Tom. You had a power over me that I allowed myself to give into. I do not know what else I can say, but I do know that I could never forgive myself if I did not say goodbye.

Goodbye Tom, I wish you all the best and love,

--Arin

Tom stared at the letter for longer than he cared to know. He put his head in his hands and attempted to control his raging emotions. The old wound felt as though it had once again been mercilessly torn open. He gripped the letter and read it a final time before he put it in his pocket.

Looking around the dorm room, he knew that it would all be different when he returned for his sixth year. Everything would change from that point on. The green hangings would stay the same, but he would change in ways that the wizarding world would not even think possible.

With one last glance, Tom headed out to the carriages that would take him to the train, and as he stepped out, a small, single tear slid down his cheek. He quickly wiped it off his face with his sleeve. Knowing that it was the last tear that he would probably ever be able to cry again, he let his heart settle, and he set off.

Settled into a compartment on the train, he stared out the window as the hills and countryside rushed past. It was only once that he glanced out into the rest of the train, where he saw her. Her hair held its usual glint, and her eyes sparkled as she laughed with her friends.

Tom admired her beauty, but when he saw Charlus Potter come and wrap his arms around her, it felt as though he was being punched a second time around. He saw her look at Potter and give him that smile. The same smile that she had given him after the bezoar joke in Potions.

He knew that she saw him, off in the background, watching her. With sadness in her eyes, she gave him a tiny wave, and that was it. She turned back to her friends and to Potter, and Tom returned to his compartment, left to staring out at the changing scenery that signaled the uncertainty that awaited him.

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A/N: Sorry for the short chapter! I think that the next will be the final one, just for a heads up. Thanks for reading, and feedback is _always_ truly appreciated. More to come soon!


	5. Chapter 5

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The castle looked so different. Tom blinked and tried to recall what it had looked like the previous year, but he could not grasp any memory of it. Every stone was darker, the cracks finer, and the air that whipped around the corners felt only more frigid.

Even his own robes did not feel as warm as they once had. His bed felt less comfortable, and the Great Hall looked somehow dimmer. Tom sighed as he walked to the Great Hall for breakfast. He had hardly slept at all. He had been thinking about the summer, and all the events that had happened.

There was also the smallest corner of his heart that thought of other things as well. He had not been surprised to see her walk hand and hand with Potter to the castle for the welcoming feast the night before, but he was surprised at how much it still hurt to see her.

At dinner, he had felt her gaze more than once, but he never met her eyes. When he had laid down to bed after the feast, he had been unable to find sleep. Instead he pulled out his old diary. He had not written in it once over the summer, for he had finally decided its future role in his life.

He reread a few of the pages that were shining with glistening ink. He flipped through until one particular page opened up, a letter written in blue ink tucked neatly inside. The emotions had come rushing back to Tom in a wave, and he had snapped the book shut again.

This morning, he ran a hand through his unruly hair, thinking of the task that would eventually come. He felt torn. There was something inside of him that knew the power that it would bring. The task would bring a chance of immortality to him, but of course it would not come without a sacrifice. A sacrifice of his soul.

He shook the thought from his head for the time being. It would not come until late in the year. He did wanted time. That was all that Tom Riddle ever simply wanted...time.

He threw himself into his classes, soaking up every possible bit of useful information and storing it away for possible use. Slughorn's little club was already back in motion, and Tom knew that the time had come to ask Slughorn the question that he had been wondering since the beginning of his quest.

He would do it after the Slug Club meeting that night.

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Tom leaned against the door outside of the potions room, breathing heavily. The conversation with Slughorn had not gone quite as he would have hoped, but he had found the information that he needed. Seven. He would be the first, the last, and the only wizard to ever do it. Seven.

He would be seven times invincible. He would be seven times immortal. He would not die. For death was Tom Riddle's fear. Death was that thought that his mind could not accept. He could not die. He would not die.

He walked along in silent thought, reflecting heavily upon it. He did not even watch where he was going, and before he knew it, he had knocked into another person, and they both fell to the floor. When he saw who it was, he leapt up. It was her. He did not know whether to run or to try and speak.

His manners eventually won. He extended a hand to help her up, but she simply looked at it, and pushed herself up from the ground.

Hurt, he quickly brought his arm back in. They stood together uncomfortably for awhile before she finally spoke. "Hi."

He avoided her eyes. "Hi."

The silence was deafening in those moments. "How was your summer?" she asked him.

"It was...productive. Yours?"

"Oh...um...fine."

Tom shuffled his feet and she looked everywhere but at him. "I wrote you -" she began.

"I know," said Tom. "I got it at the end of last year."

She nodded. "I'm sorry."

He attempted a weak smile. "I thought I told you not to be sorry. It's a waste of time."

She gave him a small smile in return. "I remember."

"Good," he said. "Listen, do you maybe want to, take a walk or something?"

She opened her mouth in surprise, and was about to reply when Tom heard a shout from behind him.

"Arin!" Charlus Potter was striding down the hall.

Tom quickly looked away. Charlus grabbed her hand and glared at Tom. "What the bloody hell do you want, Riddle?"

Tom glared back and did not speak.

"Let's go," said Potter, and he walked away, still holding her hand. She followed, but glanced back at Tom and gave him a small smile. He simply watched them leave down the hall, and he tried not to think about the aching in his heart.

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The year passed without further incident, and Tom had no further conversations with her. He simply worked on cutting himself off from emotion. He knew that if he would possibly survive in his task, he could not let his heart rule his mind.

It was the last week of his sixth year when he knew that it was time. He had thought about it more than he cared to admit. The first horcrux would be the most difficult. Tom had never killed before.

With shaking hands he gathered his wand and his old black diary. Finding it difficult to breath, he slipped out of the Slytherin common room and out into the dark halls of the school. He had made sure that she would be there. As silently as a ghost, he slipped up behind her, and cast his spell. She was knocked out.

Not quite believing what he was about to do, he gathered her in his arms and carried her to the girl's bathroom. With his sibilant hissings, the entrance to the chamber of secrets slid open. He jumped in, and he carried her to the center of the vast chamber. He woke her up, though it pained him to do so. He knew that it would not work if she were not fully conscious.

She looked at him with fear in her eyes. "Tom?"

He did not speak, he simply drew his wand with a shaky hand.

"Tom? What's going on? What are you doing?" She looked at him, confused and afraid.

Not wanting to drag it out, he simply muttered the words that would complete the spell when the task was finished. Forcing himself to make eye contact with her, his wand shaking almost uncontrollably, he said the two words.

Before a scream even could escape her throat, the blinding flash of green light erupted across the chamber, and her lifeless body fell to the floor with a thud. But the green light did not fade, instead it became even more blinding. Slowly turning into crimson fire, it surrounded Tom, and he felt pain as he had never felt before. He threw the diary on the floor, and with the scarlet flames and another blinding burst of pain that racked his body, it was over.

He fell to his knees, shaking and sweating. He could hardly breath. He had done it, though at a price that almost killed him. With violently trembling hands, he reached out for the diary and drew a quill from his pocket. Hardly able to control his hand, he wrote four words on the last page of the book and threw the quill down. Before his very eyes, the green ink slowly faded into the pages, and it looked like no more than an empty diary.

Tom looked at her body and began to sob uncontrollably from the pain. He bent down, and lightly brushed her lips with his own. With that, wiping the tears away and grabbing the small diary, he left the chamber, no longer human, though deep inside him, he was not sure that he ever had been.

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The school hushed it up, and no one ever found out the truth of what had ever happened to her.

Dumbledore called Tom into his office on the last day before Summer. Looking at him sternly, Dumbledore spoke. "I do not know why Tom, but I will figure it out."

"You will try," was all that Tom could say.

"I knew that there was nothing left inside of you, Tom." Dumbledore said.

"You do not know everything there is to know about me, Professor."

"Indeed Tom, I do not. I advise you to watch yourself carefully Tom, because you can guarantee that I will be."

Tom had risen and left without a reply to Dumbledore. He did not have the strength left inside of him to argue with the old man. Tom looked in the mirror that evening, and saw the changes in his face. His skin was paler and his nose looked flatter. His cheeks were a bit more hollow, more pronounced. Tom leaned on the sink and clutched his stomach. These days, he always felt on the verge of constant nausea.

Tom was empty now. He had nothing left to live for, but he knew that he could not allow himself to die.

His last day of his sixth year was spent at the small memorial for her. Charlus Potter was in the front row, rigid and tears shining in his eyes. Her friends were sobbing, and the Headmaster was giving a speech. Tom stood in the back for only a few moments. He knew that he should not have even gone.

He grabbed the diary and headed down to the lake. _Their_ spot on the lake.

He opened the diary to the last page, and to his surprise, the words that he had written that evening remained clear. Not capable of emotion any longer, Tom leaned back on the grass, and laid in the sun, though he could not feel it. All he could feel was the intense cold that racked his body.

Next to him lay the diary. As if knowing that the words no longer had any meaning, they slowly and arduously began to fade away into the page, never to be seen again.

Arin, I am sorry.

The End

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A/N: So that's it! Thank you so much for reading. I really enjoyed writing this little fic. Now I'll get back to working on some of my others. If you are a star wars fan, check them out. Currently, this is my only HP fic, but I definitely want to write more. Anyway, thanks again for reading! Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!


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